Pet
by Aerhiana
Summary: Life after the war. Harry finally gets something of his own. Warning: If you like sweet, happy stories, this is not your story. mm
1. Pet

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TITLE: Pet  
**AUTHOR:** Tiffany   
**PAIRING:** Harry Potter/Severus Snape  
**RATING:** G & Up  
**SUMMARY:** Harry finally gets something of his own.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing related to Harry Potter, but I'd sure like to (Please royalties of JK Rawlings come to me!)  
**Challenge:** Write FOUR separate drabbles, stories of exactly one hundred words each. All drabbles must be interconnected somehow and they must go from G & up. One of each rating.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Harry smiled tenderly and stroked his pet's dark hair. Harry had always wanted a pet. The Dursley's never would have allowed it. Like most of his belongings, his pet was secondhand. That didn't matter—he belonged to Harry. 

He loved the feeling of the silky fleece sliding through his fingers. The thought of someone taking his pet caused the slumbering rage to flare in his bright green eyes, and Harry's hands tightened painfully into the hair he'd been gently stroking. 

Mine. You're mine. He thought greedily, gazing at his pet with an obsessive possessiveness that frightened his guests, Hermione and Ron. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

After Harry got rid of his unwanted guests by using all of his boyish charm and nonthreatening demeanor, he was finally able to let his inner rage shine through. 

"Come here, pet," Harry drawled sharply. 

When the black haired man didn't move fast enough, Harry reached down, grabbed his hair, and smiled softly into the wary face of Severus Snape, former potions master at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

"You're tired aren't you, my pet? Well, let's get you ready for bed." Harry smiled softly, kindly at the pale, stiff man as he mindlessly followed him to Harry's chambers. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

"Who do you belong to?" Harry demanded sharply. 

When he received only silence as his reply, Harry grinned gleefully. 

"So you want to play a game, pet? Now which one," Harry mused as he rummage through the metal trunk at the end of his bed. 

Harry pulled out a metallic whip that was four feet long and had short quarter-inch spikes covering if from the end of the handle to its molten tip. 

Without warning, it struck the silent man who had been chained to the four poster bed, causing him to bleed all over the white silk sheets. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

After the whipping and over the whimpers of his pet, Harry sang a lullaby while drawing patterns in blood over the torn skin. 

"Hush pet, don't say a word, or Harry's gonna give you a whipping faster , and if you don't say Master, Harry's gonna give you more pain with his cane." 

After several renditions of this macabre chant and seeing the message written on his chest with his blood—Albus Dumbledore gave you to me.—Severus Snape, pet of Harry Potter, croaked "Master" and cried silent tears as his body was ruthless fucked by the Savior of the Wizarding World.


	2. A Day in the Life

Title: **A Day in the Life**

Author: Tiffany

Rating: Hard R/light NC-17 (Maybe?)

Pairing: HP/SS

Disclaimer: I own nothing, well unless you count my books, my collectibles, the food in my apartment. . . . well you get the point.

Feedback: Greatly appreciated and consumed rapidly

Beta:

Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at 30. Snape belongs to Harry. (Note, 'belongs', not 'is bought by'.) (Anonymous) 1, 000 words.

He woke up at 5:30 a.m. on the cold dungeon floor, curled up in a ball around his thin, worn pillow, covered only by a torn sheet. After taking one inaudible breath, he painfully but quietly stretched his aching muscles, joints, and bones, but he didn't pop them, as he longed to.

The lanky, emaciated man pulled himself painfully to his knees and quietly crawled past the bed, where a youthful and warmly dressed man, illuminated by the light shining through the doorway, slept deeply, encased by thick velvet blankets.

The broken man didn't even pause or glance wistfully at the comfortable and warm bed; instead, he crawled quickly and silently as he could from the bedroom, shuddering softly when the sleeping man tossed lightly in his sleep.

After making sure the sleeper didn't wake up, the kneeling man quietly crawled into the kitchen, where he made a cup of hot coffee, lacing it heavily with Firewhiskey. The man carefully placed the cup on a tray, which he carefully placed on a low table. He then, with excruciating slowness, forced his weary body to kneel down on the floor, silently managing to place the tray on his back, miraculously not spilling a drop.

The man reached the doorway of the room and stared for seconds into the dark room before, with a barely audible whimper, forcing himself to the bedside of the sleeping man. The crouched man moved near the man lazily dozing on the bed, who then opened his bright, emerald eyes and smiled a happy smile. His teeth glistened as he pronounced the charm, "Lumos," beaming an intense light into the sensitive eyes of the man on the floor.

"Ah, right on time, my dear Pet, Snivellus."

The man on the ground, formally known as Severus Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts, terror of students and adults alike, quivered at the sound of his Master's terrifyingly gentle voice.

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Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, woke up to his favorite scents: the smell of coffee, sweetened with Firewhiskey, and the intoxicating smell of sweat, caused by intense fear. He opened his eyes lazily and saw his favorite sight: his bond servant, Snivellus, kneeling beside his bed, crouched as small as his lanky figure would allow.

'Now,' Harry thought, 'what do I want this morning?' First, he reached down, slowly picked up his coffee, twirled his fingers daintily through the scalding liquid, and then licked the hot digits, slowly and sensually. After taking several sips of his drink, he laid the cup down on the bedside table, took the tray off the back of the terrified slave on his floor, and lightly patted the spot beside him.

"Come, on Pet," he said, seductively. When the beaten man didn't get up quickly enough, Harry's smile fell from his face, and he brutally jerked the man up by his hair.

"Didn't you hear me, Snape?" Harry snapped angrily. At the sound of his former name, Snivellus, bond servant and slave, began to shake in terror.

"Sorry, Master, sorry." He begged brokenly for forgiveness, his eyes desperately avoiding the grasping eyes of his Master, missing the pleasure in Harry Potter's face as he heard his once feared teacher, begging him for mercy.

"Mercy," he sneered, "is for the weak. You taught me that."

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Snape was sitting on a chair in the Potions laboratory. He couldn't move; his body had been frozen by Harry's Immobulus spell. He could, however, still feel the painful burn from his store of potions that were slowly being poured on different parts of his body. He couldn't scream in pain, his mind couldn't escape from the horror of his situation, because when Potter felt he was slipping away, he would immediately cast the Legilimens spell and start rifling painfully through his most horrifying memories.

Time and again, he would hear the screams of the people he killed as he proved his loyalty to Voldemort; but worse, millions time worse, where the times Potter delved into the memories of his beloved Regulus, forcing him to see the Dark Lord torture and kill him over and over.

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The Potions laboratory was Potter's favorite place to punish him. He loved the irony of Snape's beloved Potions becoming his worst nightmare.

His favorite potion was the Skelegrow. He would charm away Snape's bones. First, his leg bones - the sight of the dangling limbs made him laugh with delight. Eventually, he would work his way to Snape's most treasured asset: his hands. He would slowly remove his finger bones, watching the hands become deformed. Sometimes, he would leave him there for days before slowly and painfully restoring the bones with a half-dose of the potion.

After playing with his toy, Harry always grew painfully aroused. The screams and look of pain in the man's eyes always made him impatient, and he would quickly release Snape from the spells he had him under before throwing him over the desk in the center of the room, and brutally slamming his hard prick again and again into the painfully swollen anus that, even after years of weekly abuse, couldn't fully accept the engorged penis of the most renowned hero of the Wizarding World.

Sometimes, when Harry had a particularly frustrating day, he transformed himself into his Animagus form, a boa constrictor, and tortured his pet by winding himself around the man, choking him with his huge coils, all the while forcing the wide engorged tail into the wizard.

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Today, Harry had to keep his visit short. He smiled down at the man, who was torturously debauched.

"Mmm....you look delicious. I wish I could play with you more today, but duty calls." He smiled sweetly as he locked his prisoner down into the cage formerly inhabited by Remus Lupin. Harry whistled as he left the dungeons of Riddle House and Apparated to his family's home in Surrey to spend time with his beloved wife, Ginny, and their two children, Sirius and James.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: At What Price Victory?  
Author: Tiffany Rating: R Pairing: HP/SS  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or any of the Potterverse, but it's great to borrow! Thanks! )  
Feedback: Always appreciated and considered. Honesty is a great help, criticism while hard to take, is very helpful. So if you have positive or constructive criticism to share, e-mail me at Beta: Gin Ironic - thanks so much for the help. Your truthfulness and brutally honest review helped me make this story better!  
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http/ Challenge: Snape 'belongs' to Harry.

It was a day of contrasts. The sky was lit by the bright rays of the sun, but the temperature at the gravesite was freezing.

The mourners at the funeral were startled by the grief shown by the man who had once devotedly hated Hogwarts' former Potions master. Most could remember the acrimonious and hate-filled words exchanged by the two, beginning from Snape's taunting him at his first Potions' class until their last exchange before the final battle ended. Never after the battle because Severus Snape had vanished without a word--seemingly voluntarily, until he didn't return to receive the prestigious Order of Merlin, First Class, he'd earned for his part in the Final Battle.

The thought of Snape's disappearance brought fresh mental gossip to the funeral party; about his corpse's reappearance at the gates of Hogwarts, a question which had been in the back of their minds since before the ceremony. Snape was found with his face pressed desperately against the gates, his deformed and mangled right hand pushed through the bars, palm open as if pleading for admittance. But there was to be no welcome found for Hogwarts' bastard son.

The tortured man's body was granted the best funeral services money could buy, but no amount of magic could hide the frail, ravaged frame and defeated, abused face. He looked so unlike the strong, proud man they had all once known, the man who had once been feared by many. No one who had known Snape had ever seen such emotion on his face. Those who previously wished to see something other than anger from him now regretted it. Some prayed to Merlin that he have mercy upon Severus' soul for whoever had tortured him, surely they had none.

Many people came to pay respects to the man renowned for discovering the dark curse responsible for Voldemort's downfall. However, just as many came out of sheer curiosity, and to hear the man, their hero, who ultimately used Snape's discovery to utterly decimate the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

Harry Potter stood at the head of the Potions Master's coffin. At his arrival there was silence; not even a small cough was needed to gather the attention of those attending. The Man Who Lived to defeat evil was riveting, his air of justice and leadership catching the attention--as well as the hearts--of almost everyone attending.

"Professor Snape was a great man," he said in a husky tone. "He would have done anything to protect his students."

As he said the words, Harry flashed back to memories of Snape: facing Quirrell in the Dark Corridor and using his enthralling voice to intimidate the nervous man; scowling harshly as he taught Harry lifesaving defense magic; teaching him Occlumency even after his most humiliating memory had been revealed; grudgingly giving approval after his student mastered a particularly difficult lesson; saving Harry from the machinations of his own Slytherin students.

"Severus Snape was a man of convictions. He would not bend."

He vividly recalled the rigidly controlled man when he became Harry's plaything after the War, shaking with wordless terror as the Man Who Lived and Defeated Great Evil brought down the whip time and time again, his desire to wound unending. Only satisfied when a river of blood began to pour down Snape's back and his legs, puddling and eventually soaking into the floor. Remembering the terror when Harry smiled at him tenderly, before breaking his fingers one by one, then violently bending him over an old student desk and raping him. First with the Potion Master's broken wand, and later with his magically enhanced penis.

"Although he spoke countless harsh words in his effort to play his role effectively--protecting his students and our world, rarely having a kind word for anyone--I think all who knew him learned life lessons. It was when he said nothing at all, when he looked at you with his dark, penetrating gaze, stripping you bare, that was when he made you face your own truths." He remembered the way Snape looked at him the last time he'd seen him. Broken, helpless, and surprisingly small. For a moment he was caught up in the memory, feeling a small chill at the remembrance of the icy despair that had nearly penetrated his own darkness. He shook off the feeling and continued.

"And though there are many things I can call Severus Snape--hero, spy, dedicated teacher--no words can describe how deeply his loss will affect everyone who knew him."

Harry glanced meaningful at Albus Dumbledore, trusted and revered, and Arthur Weasley, the Minister of Magic who was renowned for his moral character. He needed to remind them he was now owed a toy--after all, every hero deserved a reward. His broke when Severus used every scrap of wandless magic inside of himself to Apparate from the hell that was the Riddle House to the cold, closed gates of Hogwarts, where he died alone but free at the foot of his former sanctuary.

As Harry stepped down and gazed sadly around the crowd, his gaze hungrily landed on Draco Malfoy-Weasley, who was standing next to his husband, Ron Weasley.

Finally, Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley knew the cost of their victory, as well as the unceasing hunger of its heroic conqueror. They wished they knew what to do with the devil, a devil who would never been satisfied. Their Dark Lord needed a new toy, a new pet—and they were helpless to deny him. They wondered when the cost of victory became too high. Now that the lamb had been sacrificed in the name of victory, they could admit their failure; they had become those whom they defeated--serving the monster they, in their infinite wisdom, had created.


End file.
